


and the baroque is over, part two

by clumsygyrl (thegirlthatisclumsy)



Series: baroque [2]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-17
Updated: 2009-01-17
Packaged: 2017-11-10 16:47:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlthatisclumsy/pseuds/clumsygyrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete's a writer. Patrick's his PA. Gerard is magical and neither him or Frank are real. Sort of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and the baroque is over, part two

There wasn’t any talk about Patrick’s music and he figured it was Pete’s way of just letting him down easy. He knew it was rough. He was glad that Pete was letting it go. He was. He did figure Pete could have at least said something about it. Patrick put it out of his mind and set up the living room for Pete’s next interview.

Pete had spent the night before throwing together the most outrageous outfits together that it made Patrick’s eyes cross. He reminded Pete that he’d spent days organizing Pete’s fucking closet. “I know, Trick. But I like keeping you busy,” and then he’d waggled his eyebrows in some ridiculous manner that reminded Patrick of something you’d see in a bad sitcom. Or a porn.

Pete was half naked and parading around in ridiculous bat printed shorts with his miles of tattooed skin. Patrick was telling himself that he was only human and had the human tendency to look at naked people. He was pretty sure it was a cultural and societal thing. Patrick was even sort of prepared when Pete sat in his lap and looped one orange tie around his neck and a purple one next to it. “These look good on you, but I’m kind of unsure what it’s going to do with my complexion.”

“You’re going to wear a tie for a magazine interview?” Patrick asked and kept his hands on the bed. Pete had called him in two hours ago to help with the preparations.

“Well, yeah. I’m supposed to be eccentric and shit. I’m a writer and all,” Pete said simply and knotted the tied with orange on top of purple.

Patrick tried to tug them off when Pete hopped off his lap, pushing the thought that his lap felt decidedly colder now away, and ended up almost garroting himself with the things. “I’m pretty sure that you can’t be eccentric unless you’re old and rich.”

“Well, I’m almost thirty,” Pete pointed out.

“That’s not even old for trees, asshole. Get these off me,” Patrick grimaced tugging at the knot.

Pete swaggered over, hips moving in a slinky way that Patrick refused to catalogue other than “moving in a completely Pete way”. “Aww, Patrick if you wanted me to get you naked all you would have to ask.” He whispered the last part right into Patrick’s ear, fingers toying with the end of the ties. Patrick could feel his cheeks flame and the heat climbing up his neck.

He told himself it was because it’d been a long time since anyone had a) touched him, b) had someone ridiculously pretty talk to him like this, and c) had someone ridiculously pretty be half naked near him pretend flirting. “Jerk,” Patrick said shoving at Pete’s chest.

“My heart’s broken,” Pete said tugging the knots loose easily and looping them around his own neck before turning back to his closet.

Patrick rubbed his hands on his thighs feel the ghost warmth of Pete’s chest and also feeling like he’d maybe missed something important.

oOoOo

> Ray was asleep on his couch. Frank supposed it should be weird that he was so comfortable now with Gerard sleeping so close, but after the first few nights when he found Gerard asleep in the hall outside his door, it felt more normal to just tell Gerard to take the other half of the bed. He knew that Gerard didn’t sleep much at night. One of the few times when Frank was up before Gerard, there was a quiet battle in Gerard’s dreams and when Frank shook him awake there was a faint acrid burning that seemed to cling to Gerard’s skin as he came out of the dreams.

> Frank wondered if he’d smell the same with Ray in the morning.

> “I’ll have to go with you,” Frank whispered. It wasn’t a question, not really. Gerard still hadn’t told him why Gerard had found him. Frank wondered if it was just because he was convenient and there and had the closet that led back to Gerard’s reality.

> The door to the hall closet had stayed firmly shut since that morning weeks ago.

> “Yes,” Gerard had said after he’d closed his eyes. “I am sorry.”

> “No big,” Frank said wanting to reach out and fix the blankets around Gerard. The guy never seemed to be warm enough. He can remember stories his mother always told him on his birthday how when he was a baby his mother thought he’d died because she’d found him in the middle of the floor so still and so cold. He’d must have crawled out of his crib and fallen asleep. They always laugh about it at every birthday.

> Frank laughed and felt bad when Gerard opened his eyes. “Sorry. I just remembered that my birthday is in about a week.”

> Gerard didn’t seem surprised by that, and the smile he gave Frank was that same tired sad one. “I am sorry. For all of this. For what’s to come. For--.”

> “Hey, I already told you. No big. I mean, to be completely fucking honest this is the most interesting my whole life has been,” Frank’s mouth kicked up at the corner. “And you’re getting me out of Jersey. That’s something I never thought would happen. But why we’re going to Chicago in the middle of October is beyond me.”

> Gerard reached out to touch the edge of Frank’s smile. His fingers pressed against the corner of Frank’s mouth as if expecting to find something there. “Robert is there. I need to speak with him. He needs,” his hand moved slowly brushing against and down Frank’s cheek to his neck. “We need him. To help finish this.”

> Frank shook his head. “You don’t even know where to find him. All you’ve got is that he used to work sound at some dive bars.” Even getting that information had been squirrelly. Frank had had to call around and even Ray had bothered a few of the regulars that were in the scene there. They’d gotten reports that Bob was in Chicago or in Florida. Chicago had been the best bet. It was at least where Bob’s folks had last lived.

> “Finishing the war?” Frank asked moving closer. It was inexplicable the want that was there. It’d been building slowly in the background. He knew Gerard felt it too, but it was there for them both.

> “Yes,” Gerard said watching Frank move closer. He wasn’t doing anything to stop Frank. “To help bring about what was foretold. The Afterever and its minions will try to stop us. I have to keep us safe. And we have to go back. Find them.” Gerard rubbed his thumb over Frank’s neck, tracing a pattern that Frank couldn’t see. “Brian is watching and trying to keep the darkness back. He’s the one who wove the spell for me to get here. He’s more organized and clearheaded in that respect.” He smiled softly.

> Frank wanted that smile for his own and when he chased it with his mouth, Gerard gave it to him.

> Gerard’s fingers tightened and now pulled him closer. “I will not leave you,” he whispered.

> “Good. That’s good,” Frank said and realized that even while they kissed he’d heard the words and the promise loud and clear. 

oOoOo

Patrick learned a lot of things when the article copy was sent to them early. Pete had it in the contract with the magazine that he’d do the interview but he wanted final edit on the article. He had that much pull. Patrick had told Pete that Pete had like Rowling pull. Pete had preened at that and kissed Patrick on the forehead.

Patrick learned that Pete found inspiration after a break up and had based two of his series on one disastrous relationship with a girlfriend that had broken his heart and whose heart he’d broken in return. Patrick had known that the relationship between him and Jeanae had been kind of toxic. She seemed polite and nice enough on the phone when Patrick gave her times to get Hemmy for their own playdates.

Patrick also learned more from the article that Pete had writer’s block that was its own slap of reality. “The stories are there circling and waiting to be popped.” Patrick shook his head at the pull quote. “Popped like a big juicy zit.” Patrick shouldn’t have been surprised but a lot of the article didn’t so much focus on Pete’s books but on his personal life. The article covered the attempted suicide attempt, the pill use, the depression and bipolar disorder, the failed relationships with starlets and others, and the weird friendships with musicians. Patrick would often show up at Pete’s place and find himself serving chips and beers to people he’d heard on the Top 40 station that Pete played constantly.

The most surprising was that Patrick learned that more than half of the rumored boyfriends Pete had had in the past were actual exes.

It didn’t change much in Patrick’s perceptions. It didn’t make Pete suddenly more attainable. Patrick was firmly rooted in where he stood on the scale.

What was weird was that Pete kept following him around, hanging off him and doing his best to get his hands in the way of Patrick trying to do things. The things that Pete paid him a lot of money to do. Patrick was really trying to get through the beginning of the next semester and not kill his boss.

His boss also seemed to be dropping and picking up a lot of stuff whenever he was in the room.

Patrick spent a lot of nights jerking off to thoughts of Pete dropping boxes and boxes of pens all over hardwood floors.

Patrick was enjoying it too much to really think it was weird.

“So what are you doing for the break, Trick?” Pete had asked taking down the felt wreath of fall colored leaves. It was missing a few choice ones after that time that Hemmy had pulled it off and ran away with it. Patrick had spent an hour on his hands and knees fighting with the dog for it with Pete “supervising”.

“Not much. I’m thinking I’m not going to go home,” Patrick said. His parents had gotten past supportive and accepting to being in disbelief that Patrick had continued to hold on to this weird notion of making a go of the music thing and that Patrick hadn’t crash and burned yet. He was a little maliciously proud of the fact that he was supporting himself and going to school and doing well. “They don’t want me there anyway.”

“You could come with me. I’m going to my folks,” Pete offered nonchalantly. It was as nonchalant as Pete got because he failed in not looking eager and throwing his arm around Patrick.

Patrick laughed and elbowed Pete lightly. “Sure. Sounds good. I’ll leave the inappropriate presents here so you don’t have to open them in front of your folks.”

Pete brayed that stupid laugh of his and Patrick knew he was going in for a forehead kiss like he always did when he got what he wanted from Patrick.

But they both seemed to misjudge the distance. One bobbed when they should have woven. Patrick darted one way and Pete the same or opposite, it really all was a blur, but then Pete’s mouth was glancing off his and Patrick stilled.

It didn’t stop Pete from leaning in and muttering something like “a clue finally” then kissing Patrick again. There was a sound and Patrick realized it was him making that needy wanting noise. His hands magically ended up on Pete’s hips pulling him closer.

“Yeah, yeah. Fuck,” Pete whispered hot and dirty against Patrick’s ear.

“Whoa,” Patrick said and made himself step back and lick his lips.

Pete took another step forward and Patrick shook his head. “No, I should. I’ll go. I’ll be back tomorrow or. Yes.” He said with his head still spinning. The entire elevator ride down, Patrick licked his lips and tasted Pete there. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he didn’t need to look at it to know it was Pete.

He was pretty sure this wasn’t what he was hired for. He was also really fucking sure he wasn’t ready for this.

oOoOo

> Ray didn’t comment on the way that Frank and Gerard seemed to not leave each other’s space. The entire flight Ray asked questions of Gerard and Gerard answered them as much as he could. There were times when Frank knew he wasn’t telling them the entire truth, but there were others when Gerard seemed to tell the truth even when he knew it would hurt him. He talked about the birthing lands that were eaten away by decay and how he remembered his own mother getting swallowed up by the Afterever. The tears did not fall but Frank could see them glittering there.

> They’d arrived in Chicago just at daybreak after long hours of delay and Gerard looking paler and paler the longer they were from actual earth. “The elemental forces are things that I need to feel centered,” Gerard had said. He was much better when Frank loaned him his lighter and got him a bottle of water.

> The grateful little smile was enough to get Frank to blush. They hadn’t done much besides kiss after that night, but Frank couldn’t remember going to bed feeling more satisfied ever.

> “How are we going to figure out what he looks like?” Ray asked. The shadows under his eyes were darker than they had been days earlier.

> Gerard just smiled and turned his face up to the sun.

> “I’ll know.”

> Frank knew it made him a little bit of a girl, but he swore that Gerard glowed in that moment. 

oOoOo

Patrick spent three days trying to get in and out of the apartment to take care of stuff for Pete without actually being around Pete. He left a lot of detailed lists and got all the errands taken care of before Pete woke up or was around. Joe kept calling him a pussy and then apologized to all pussies everywhere because Patrick didn’t even have the balls enough to be a pussy.

Patrick had to admit that maybe Joe was right.

It was day four and Patrick was going to go in and tell Pete that things were fine. They were cool. He’d really like to work for Pete and maybe make out as long as the two never actually met or affected the other. He thought it was a long shot, but he was getting a little tired of being in the middle of his wet dreams and finding Pete right smack dab in the middle of them. Not that Pete didn’t make them more interesting, but it was still disconcerting.

Patrick made himself text Pete with an, “On the way. Want Chinese?”

The series of happy faces and x’s and o’s gave Patrick that added little push toward Everything Being Cool.

That sort of went south as soon as he opened the door and heard something he thought he should never hear. Especially with other people in the apartment. Patrick carefully set the food on the hall table and walked into the living room area. Pete was sitting there talking to some guy, laughing and joking like old friends. Patrick swallowed and winced when the one part in the bridge that he’d worked on for four days still sounded wrong. His voice went off key in the next second and Patrick felt his cheeks heat.

“Pete,” Patrick said looking at the other guy.

“You must be Patrick,” the guy said standing and holding out his hand. “Name’s Bob. McLynn. Pete’s told me a lot about you.”

Pete bounced up and threw his arm around Patrick’s middle and squeezed. “He’s amazing. My Trick is going to fucking rule this industry.”

Patrick quickly put things together and swallowed feeling ill. “Crush Management, right?”

Bob ducked his head but smiled with pride. “Yeah. That’s us. Well, me.”

“I need to speak with you in the other room,” Patrick said already walking away and down the hall. His feet knew he was heading to Pete’s bedroom before his head did, but when he was there he stood in the middle of the room. He’d been in there before to put away laundry and to organize Pete’s closet, but he didn’t think this was going to be the place where he was going to kill Pete.

Pete grinned wide and bright at Patrick and slammed the door shut. “He’s cool, right? He loves your stuff. I played him like a little bit the other day and he went bananas for it. It was so fucking cool. You’re going to be a fucking star, Trick.” He went to wrap Patrick up in a hug and Patrick stopped him with a straight arm, hand to the chest and glare on his face that seemed to stop Pete more than the actual contact.

“Fuck you,” Patrick said quietly, winding the fabric of Pete’s shirt in his fist. He wondered for a half second if he was going to haul back and punch the fuck out of Pete’s mouth.

Pete looked confused, honestly shocked when Patrick seemed to mean it. “What?”

“Fucking abject humiliation in front of the head of Crush management? Fuck you, Pete. You wanted to get even for me leaving you high and dry and not fawning all over you? What? For not sleeping with you? I get it. Fuck you,” Patrick said letting Pete go and shoving him away. He stepped back and clenched his hands into fists in his pockets. If he didn’t, he was pretty sure he was going to fucking jam his fist down Pete’s fucking throat.

Pete stared at him and took a step into Patrick’s space. “What the actual fuck are you babbling about? You think. Oh you mother fucking asshole. No! I did it because I l--.”

Patrick shoved him again, hard enough to push him halfway across the room. “It’s unfinished and rough and NO ONE WAS SUPPOSED TO HEAR IT. I gave it to you. I trusted you with that. So, so fuck you!”

Pete rounded furiously, eyes dark and his hand just as hard on Patrick’s chest as he shoved back. “Just because you’re too chicken shit to try for ANYTHING.”

Patrick grabbed at Pete’s arms and got close enough to bite him. To kiss him. “Shut your fucking mouth. At least I know who the fuck I am. I may be a coward, but I know that. Stop hiding behind your fucking fantasy and your romantic happy endings. It doesn’t work that way. The nice guy does not always get the guy. The talented normal looking kid is not going to win.”

All the fight seemed to go out of Pete and he looked at Patrick shaking his head. “You… how can you not see.”

“I’m done. I. I quit.” Patrick said letting go of Pete. “I don’t need your charity or your hook ups. If I’m going to do this, it’s on my terms.”

Pete laughed and shook his head. “It doesn’t work if you don’t put yourself out there, Patrick. You gotta try. You’re so fucking good. Perfect.”

“I said I quit, Pete. You don’t get to tell me what to do. And,” Patrick opened the door and stepped out into the hall. “There’s no such thing as perfect.”

When he stepped outside Pete’s building, he felt his stomach turn and he couldn’t even lie to himself and blame it on hunger.

oOoOo

> It was surprisingly easy to find Bob. Frank knew that should have been a clue. Nothing in his life had been this lucky. He should have been waiting for the other shoe to drop. He should have been ready for it.

> Bob had been nothing like Frank expected. He was big and solid and blond. He reminded Frank of what he thought Vikings should look like. His voice was deeper than Frank expected but there was a dryness there that Frank appreciated. Frank couldn’t seem to stop looking at Bob’s eyes though. They sparkled ice blue and Frank couldn’t seem to look away.

> Gerard seemed to have the same problem. He talked about the same things that he had with Ray, but unlike Ray Bob didn’t cry or whimper. He just got quieter and even more still. Frank watched the end of his cigarette gray with ash as Gerard began his story and Bob just sat there and looked at Gerard.

> The fine tremor started in Bob’s hand then he began to shiver as if he were chilled. It was Frank who was closest and he touched the bare skin of Bob’s wrist and hissed when he felt how cold his skin was. Bob seemed to crumple at that, head bowing slightly before he nodded when Gerard asked him to join them.

> The trouble began when they left the bar where Bob was working.

> Frank barely had time to register what was going on, but Gerard was shouting and shoving Frank at Ray and Bob. Bob and Ray seemed to understand because Frank was being rolled and shoved behind a car. Frank watched in awe as something that looked like what Frank could only be described as a demon. The thing had a head like a lion and what looked like horns coming out of its head. The horse it was riding on was breathing fire and had claws and scales on its back legs like a damn dragon and all Gerard had was a fucking dagger. “We need to help him,” Frank said trying to crawl away from Bob’s hold.

> “He told us to keep you safe,” Bob said voice cracking and his arms were shaking. Ray was whispering what sounded like the Hail Mary and Frank grimaced and twisted out of Bob’s hold. He ran away from the fight and toward the bar again. He didn’t make it two steps without hearing the horse and its rider bellow.

> Frank didn’t turn and just kept running. He felt more than heard the explosion behind him and the momentum of the blast took him off his feet and slammed him backward as if the explosion were sucking him backward. He must have passed out because when he came to the entire street was dusted. There was rubble where the bar had been and the car was melted into the pavement. Ray and Bob were crumpled at the base of a streetlight. Frank felt as if everything in him had been burnt with an iron. It was a struggle to get his eyes open.

> “Gerard?” He croaked and rolled on his side and bit back the scream when the demon’s horse stared back at him. He scrambled back, kicking at it and nearly retched when it rolled away from its body. Frank breathed out hard and fast and felt the sharp sudden jab of pain lightning its way down his side. Busted rib and arm, he mentally told himself. He’d never had either, but he figured the pain was unmistakable. The breathing cleared his head enough for him to hear the fighting.

> Frank used the still warm husk of the car body to lever himself up. The smoke was still thick and dark as he made his way closer to the noise. He could hear Gerard chanting and the sound of slower crashes of metal. Frank stumbled over something and again told himself not to puke. His hand was in something warm and wet. The carcass of the demon horse was steaming and the smell was worse than anything Frank had ever thought could exist. He stumbled and found the circle of the fight. The air was clearer but sharper here. Like freshly burnt paper and charcoal together. His eyes stung as he watched the demon thing advance on Gerard, Gerard who looked completely calm and free of any kind of mark. His eyes were closed and Frank watched as blue engulfed him. The demon staggered back and let out an unearthly scream. Frank covered his ears even as his arm protested. It sounded like dying animals and pain. Frank stumbled to his knees and something in him told him to watch the thing die.

> “Focus it on him,” Gerard’s voice said near him.

> “Focus what?” Frank gasped reeling from the screaming. His palms ached where he knew there were cuts and his side that hurt.

> “The pain and the blood. Do it. The anger and the cold, all of it should be his. All that you’re feeling now. The fear. Drive it into him like a spike. End it for me, my heart,” Gerard whispered and then and only then did Frank feel and hear the tremor in Gerard’s voice.

> “You’re keeping us all alive, aren’t you?” Frank asked struggling to focus.

> Gerard’s smile was strained and he shook his head, that fixed wind holding his hair aloft. “No, no, Frank. I am keeping your sanity. To hear the cries from that thing would drive any mortal into the depths of Hell. Or what you would call Hell. I’m keeping him from taking your souls with him when you put him back where he belongs.”

> Frank swallowed past the pain and the fear that tasted much like bile.

> “Do it, my heart. You can. I know you can.”

> Frank closed his eyes and willed himself to trust in Gerard’s faith in him and then he felt all of the pain and the burning of anger that he kept in check, the pit of it hot and alive in him, the cold fury of it in his life that had gone wrong, and the unfairness of Gerard’s loss. He took it all and shoved it not like a spike but a sword, cleaving the monster out of this place. He wanted it to stop. He wanted it to end and away from them.

> The silence was blessed.

> That was when Frank let himself slip into darkness certain that Gerard would keep him safe. 

oOoOo

Patrick spent the days not with or around his former boss noodling around on his guitar and pulling up his final project and just looking at it on the screen. He hadn’t played it again after turning it in and giving it to Pete. He wasn’t ready to listen to it again. He spent a lot of his days ignoring his phone and emails. He spent more time replaying the fight.

He didn’t know if it made him more of a loser to just have wanted it to have turn out differently. He wanted Pete to have said something magical to make it change. Patrick wanted those magic words that would have made Patrick not mad and fixed everything. He kept himself up at night with his finger ready to call Pete and apologize.

It didn’t feel right that way and Patrick was too much of a chicken to just go over there. In his head he knew that he was wrong on a lot of it, he also knew that he had good reason to feel the way he did. He was not that guy that got the happy ending. He had to work for it. He had to make do. He wasn’t going to get stuff handed to him without working hard at it. He didn’t accept charity or hook ups. He really wished that when he told himself that kind of stuff that it would ease the ache in his chest. He fucking missed Pete and his stupid dog. He missed the stupid conversations about cartoons and the way he would make fun of Pete and Pete would just kind of grin at him and wrestle him to the ground.

He even missed the stupid way Pete smiled at the damn dog.

Hell, he even missed the stupid dog.

He punched his pillow and closed his eyes.

“You are seriously the saddest mother fucker on the planet,” Joe said throwing something at his head.

Patrick sat up to glare at Joe and mentally cursed the day he made Joe an extra key. “Fuck you very much.” He picked up the envelope from the floor and frowned at it. “What the hell is this?”

“You’re fucking humble pie, asshole. I don’t see what he sees in you. I am going to go hang out with people cooler than you. Grow a pair. Build a bridge. Whatever the fuck you need to do, shithead and man up. He’s a good guy and wants good for you,” Joe said and then instead of leaving sat down next to Patrick and smack him upside the head then hugged him. “I am your best friend and I think that you getting something nice in your life like a rich, hot boyfriend is okay. Give yourself permission to love,” Joe said.

Patrick looked at Joe. “You’ve been listening to Dr. Phil haven’t you?”

Joe bounced up off Patrick’s bed with a grin. “Nah, Marie likes to keep Oprah on when we have sex.”

Patrick groaned and covered his head and got another smack to the back of it for all the good it did. “Read his fucking love letter you fucker. He made me promise to give it to you. He gave me those damn eyes and shit.”

Joe left with a cheery little bang to his front door and Patrick sat back to read his damn letter.

oOoOo

> Frank woke and reached out for Gerard and what he got was a handful of cotton. He sat up and groaned when all it brought was more aches and pain. “Gerard?” His throat felt torn apart and there was a cool hand on his neck.

> Bob was there smiling a little hesitantly at him. “He’s… he just left.”

> “Where am I?” Frank looked around the dim little bedroom with the pressboard furniture.

> Bob held up a glass with a little bendy straw in it. Frank was suddenly parched and he sucked down three big swallows before coughing most of it back up. “Easy, easy there,” Bob said rubbing his back. “You’re at my place. Chicago still. We’ve got the first flight out in the morning. Ray’s boarding up all the windows and doing something Gerard taught him to all the openings.” Bob laughed at himself when the glass trembled a little. The laugh was starting to sound more and more familiar to Frank. It was nerves and relief and fear all together. “This is fucking insane.”

> Frank nodded because he didn’t know what to say. “Did you see what happened?”

> Bob nodded after a second and set the glass down. “After the big boom, I got knocked out cold. Got a pretty hefty knot on the back of my head. I got to you just as you… Did that thing and I caught you when you fell. Gerard too. Just sort of crumpled. More gracefully, the fucker,” Bob said laughing.

> Frank swallowed back the flip in his stomach. “What did I do?”

> Bob smoothed out a wrinkle in the blanket. “You just it was like light came out of you and it went right for that thing, cut it down the middle and the things that came out of it,” he whispered and shook his head. “I was trying not to look but Gerard told me to. He made me remember because all the things that were coming out of it…” Bob wiped at his face, and Frank knew he was crying. “They were people. And they were free now and you did that.” He said looking at Frank.

> Frank shook his head. “No. I…”

> “Bob, there’s food. You should eat,” Gerard said from the doorway.

> Bob squeezed Frank’s hand. “Drink the water. You need it.” He passed Gerard in the doorway and squeezed his arm just as he had Frank’s.

> Gerard stood at the foot of the bed and didn’t look at Frank. “I’m sorry.”

> “What?” Frank asked nearly dropping his glass of water.

> Gerard looked down at his hands, still perfect and unmarked. Frank maybe hated him a little for being so clean looking when Frank felt cruddy. “I’m sorry for bringing this to you. I had no choice.”

> “So, it’s time for the truth finally,” Frank said ruefully and wanted to laugh but he was pretty sure his ribs would kill him if he even tried. There were sounds coming from the living room, a football game maybe or soccer. Something in Spanish at any rate. It was sort of normal which just made the rest of everything so fucking bizarre.

> “Yes,” Gerard said softly. “I came to you for a purpose. You, I need you. We need you.”

> “I’m you’re only hope. I’m your Obi Wan?” Frank ventured and tried not to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of his life right now.

> Gerard shook his head and didn’t look ready to laugh. He looked scared and sad and angry and everything else Frank had seen the last few seconds before Gerard had told him to kill that thing. “I lost you in my Place. I lost Ray and Bob. The prophecy told me that for the war to end that I had to bring back the ones that made the circle whole and the ones who’d been lost.” He took a breath. “If I could not find you in this place then all was lost.” He swallowed hard. “There’s no time for me to search for another nor are there many more Places left to search.” He wiped his fingers over his pants, the jeans were dirty now from travel. “You died before I knew you. As a babe. I had to find you here. Ray and Bob, I knew in the other Place. I had lost Matt, Otter, there and he was lost to me here.” Gerard seemed to choke on his laugh. “Otter was always foolhardy and his temper got the better of him here as well there. And Michael. It means that if he is dead here that there is hope that he is still alive in my Place.” He looked at Frank finally. “I was going to leave you here.”

> Frank does drop the glass this time. “What?”

> “I couldn’t do it to you. It is not your war to fight,” Gerard said again not looking at Frank. “I was going to be noble and leave tonight and go back to my place and help Brian hold back the darkness.”

> Frank sat up fully this time and walked over to Gerard and poked him in the chest with his good arm and hand. “You’re fucking stupid.”

> Gerard winced.

> “I just killed a motherfucking demon. If you can’t use me on your side, I don’t know what else you’re fucking looking for. And here’s fucking newsflash, fuck your nobility and shit. I’m not letting you go back by yourself to face that stuff. You are fucking stuck with me. I bled with you. So suck it up. Plus,” he leaned up and pressed a hard kiss against Gerard’s mouth.

> It took a few seconds but Gerard got with the program and unbent and wrapped careful arms around him.

> “I think I might like you a whole lot. And I’m looking forward to some intense sex when we win,” Frank muttered.

> Gerard laughed a little and held Frank close. “That is a mighty threat, sir.”

> “Fuck that noise. That’s payment for dragging my ass to a place with fucking demons. And the good fucking possibility of gruesome death.” Frank said tugging at Gerard’s hair and getting his face close enough for another kiss.

> “Yes, dear.” 

oOoOo

Patrick hated feeling like he was being watched, but there were about five pairs of eyes staring at him while he stood in the freezing ass cold in the middle of a damn Christmas Eve blizzard. He was shivering and holding that stupid letter in his hand and wanting to turn the fuck around and not come back.

“You came,” Pete said touching the edge of Patrick’s jacket.

“I did. I got your letter,” Patrick said holding it up. “I… you didn’t put an ending on it.”

Pete shrugged and looked back at his family. “Do you uhm. I have a room upstairs.”

Patrick looked over at the living room where Pete’s family looked like they were playing Monopoly. “Er, yes. Merry Christmas?” He called back as Pete dragged him up the stairs and up the ladder to the attic. “You lived in the attic?”

“Yeah?” Pete said and hauled up the ladder and shut the door. “It had its own ambiance.”

Patrick suddenly felt three kinds of stupid and the carefully rehearsed speech and all his gestures were kind of forgotten when he looked at Pete standing there just as awkwardly waiting for him to make a move. “I’m bad at this,” Patrick said filling the silence. “Like very bad. Also I don’t want to be one of your bad breakups that you end up making a book. I… I like you a lot and I really want this to work but you were right. I’m a fucking chicken and I don’t know what to do with something nice or think that I deserve to have it.” He took another deep breath. “But I want to try. I have to find another job because being your assistant and your boyfriend is going to be fucking awkward and I’d rather have the other part than the employment and I’ve got shit saved up to tide me over.”

“You know that’s the most I’ve heard you talk ever,” Pete said tilting his head. “Well, when it didn’t have to do with singers I’ve never heard of or about Prince.”

Patrick shrugged and made himself take those two steps to Pete and touch his arm. “I learned to let you fill the quiet up.”

Pete made a face. “I do not--.”

“You do, but maybe we can trade off now. Take turns. Besides,” Patrick grinned at Pete and waved the letter. “I still gotta find out what happens.”

Pete took the letter and tossed it over onto the nightstand. “Well, I could show you.”

Patrick let Pete manhandle him onto the bed. “Why am I not, oh shit,” he groaned when Pete bit his neck and slid a hand into his pants. “Not surprised you’re trying to make it with me while your parents and siblings are downstairs playing a board game?”

Pete huffed a laugh against Patrick’s throat. “Hmm, because it’s me?”

“Point,” Patrick said trying to sound flippant and wondered what it said about him that they’d gone from fighting to barely kissing to Pete’s hand down his pants.

“I move fast. Always been precocious,” Pete said leaning up to kiss Patrick slow hot and dirty. His tongue twining around Patrick’s and Patrick did not have a hard time imagining other parts of Pete doing the same things to other parts of him. “I have been waiting and flirting and fucking dropping clues like they were anvils,” Pete grumbled and started kissing his way down Patrick’s neck.

“Yeah, yeah, complain and bitch,” Patrick said kicking his pants off and tugging at Pete’s sweatshirt. “You’re the one who’s getting laid. Stop talking and get to work.”

Pete grinned wide and bright and dived in for another kiss. “Would you hate me if I told you I think I fell in love with you when you turned in your application?”

“I’d probably punch you in the stomach,” Patrick said rolling his eyes but he knows Pete can hear the fondness there.

“Such sweet words, Pattycake,” Pete said and Patrick thumped a hand against Pete’s ass. “Kinky!” Pete said and jerked the drawer open for lube and condoms.

“Is the lube older than me?” Patrick asked teasing and sliding his fingers over the ink he was allowed now to touch.

Pete snorted and shook his head. “Brand new, Trick. You are totally my Christmas present. Just got to unwrap you early,” he said snickering.

“How are you a writer?” Patrick groaned and tried to kick at Pete and then arched up when Pete’s finger pushed in deep and twisted. “Oh fuck, right there.” He didn’t bother smacking Pete for the smug look and just wriggled for Pete to move his hand right the fuck now.

Pete kissed him soft and sweet and Patrick relaxed and let Pete take over. It was kind of nice to let Pete take over for a change. One finger soon became two and then three. It’d been a while since anyone had done this to Patrick or for him. It’d been a long time since it’d been more than a casual hand or blowjob from a friend. He groaned loudly when Pete’s mouth closed over the tip of his dick and sucked hard while his fingers moved in and out agonizingly slow. “Please, fuck,” he begged.

“Got you, Trick. Got you,” Pete murmured and the rustle of cellophane and plastic was a relief.

The blunt thick pressure of Pete’s cock against his ass was even more of a relief. He pulled Pete close and looked up at Pete over him, eyes dark and intent and Patrick knew that while he wouldn’t admit it to Pete that the look of him like this haloed by multicolored lights and smiling at him would always mean more to him than anything else. Patrick was composing a damn symphony for Pete. “Please,” Patrick said against Pete’s mouth.

Pete wasn’t gentle. His hips started slow and then moved faster the louder and more strident Patrick’s moaning got. The burn and ache from Pete moving in him was enough for him to clutch at Pete’s forearm, his finger pale against the darker skin and even darker ink. Pete whispered nonsense words and praise against Patrick’s neck in between kisses.

Patrick tipped his head back still seeing the spangled lights and he reached down between their bodies, his cock slick and sweaty from both of them. Pete made a sound and Patrick shouted when Pete wrapped his hand around Patrick’s and stroked till Patrick came yelling Pete’s name.

Pete’s grip tightened and his hips moved faster a sharp tattoo of rhythm that went erratic when Patrick came back from the floating place of orgasm to squeeze and whisper Pete’s name that was dark and hot and laced with satisfaction and promise. Pete didn’t stand a chance and came, in the space after a heartbeat and before the next.

Pete stroked his fingers down Patrick’s side, their skin damp and satisfied. They’d be gross soon and would have to clean up or be stuck together till the new year.

“I can’t believe I had sex for you the first time on Power Ranger sheets and under Christmas lights,” Patrick poked Pete’s side. “I really don’t want this to end up in one of your books.”

Pete tipped his head up and brushed another soft sweet kiss against Patrick was a promise. “Since you mentioned it…”

 

Fin

oOoOo Epilogue oOoOo

“…Why won’t he just. He should just!” Pete yelled at his monitor.

Patrick watched from the other side of the room as Pete yelled at his computer. It was a pretty common sight but what was amusing was that Rigby was trying to climb into Pete’s lap to see what the big problem was. “Is Frank not doing what you want him to do?”

Pete swiveled his chair around and glared at Patrick. “I just. I want them to make out. There’s a battle coming soon. He should get a motherfucking kiss from fucking Gerard, okay?”

“I still think it’s weird that you’re naming them after one of your ex-boyfriend’s brother and his boyfriend. Can’t they sue you for like libel? Slander?” Patrick asked scratching Hemmy’s belly.

“I’ll send them a free copy of the book. Gerard will be totally into it. He loves fucking D&D and shit. It will be sweet. Now if I could just get them to kiss and make sure that Gerard comes off as mysterious and noble instead of--.”

“Constipated?” Patrick asked.

“I hate you. I don’t know why I put up with you,” Pete muttered and turned back to his screen. “I think it’s the sex.”

“Yes, dear. More than likely.”


End file.
